France 2016 - how to spend over a grand on beaches, beetles and nervous breakdowns
The plan ; pick up the car from Nice airport, drive to Cannes, a coupla nights in a four star hotel and then on to Avignon and four nights in Airbnb flat.Ambitious ? hmm maybe. Expensive? definitely. Stressful? Ha ha, what do you reckon?
We arrive at Hertz desk at about 9pm, Ten minutes earlier we stepped onto Nice runway, the warm air hits you like a giant hair dryer is blowing from Libya. No queue.
The nice fella has my Citroen C1 all prepped and ready to go. We have gone through the prelims, having a laugh, until the lorry attack comes up and he declares they should all be killed. OK, bit harsh, Lets forget it as I bowl down the peage in 5 minutes time. But !!!!! he wants one last thing, E400 for a deposit.
"Ive already paid all that " I declare with confidence.
"No, you must pay this and get it back when you return the car".
"OK" - what the hell me thinks.
The card doesnt work. OMG !
"We try E250 " he says.
Thats a bit dodgy I think.Again no dice from the machine, and he declares the credit card company want to keep my card.He steps away from the desk with my card in hand.
"Hang on, everything is booked with that card, give it back, s'il vous plais".
He agrees. Phew. We try everything, I cant find the money.
"So what now?"
"I cannot give you the car, monsieur". Everything unravels at speed.
I return to JK, with the bad news. Its now 9.40pm and the last bus to Cannes goes in 5 minutes.
We have to find another way. We arrive at about midnight at the underwhelming hotel, at least it has a balcony
The next day is spent sorting this FUBAR .
Cannes is pretentious and souless. I am happy to leave for Avignon, taking the coast road westward. Its a magical road, constantly swinging left and right and right again. There is nowhere to park until we reach Thiol where I have a fabulous swim on a mysteriously empty beach.I chat to some Brits on the floating raft they put out. In the distance is a superyacht called Casino Royale. I wonder who is onboard? Broccoli, err, cant think of anyone else. The sea is azur, warm, clean and sweet as.
Later I see my friends in the cafe.
"What, no"
"My daughter has a red swelling all up her leg, I got one on my arm, it feels like a red hot poker ..."
Blimey, the Med isnt quite the heavenly water it appears to be.
"Thats why its so deserted here. But how do the locals know? Is there a sign ? " No-one knows.
We arrive in Avignon late. The host is genuinely sympat about it. The flat is fine.We settle in to relax and let the stress wash away. Until I start to boil. Its 9pm and its so hot. There must be a fan, and looking at the bed, I see a thick winter duvet .OMG, you have got to be kidding. My mind swings to a scene on The Bridge on the River Kwai, probably because its on the TV, dubbed into French, like everything. Alec Guinness emerges from a tin shack after days cooking in a oven, and marches in a robot stomp to the camp torturer-in-chief. Christ, imagine that , 10 minutes under that duvet would give me the screaming ab-dabs. Days baking in that tin thing...they made 'em tough in those days.
Then we saw an amazing art and music event at a cave in Les Baux de Provence. Wow what a visual treat. I wasnt impressed by Avignon. how can a bridge that just ends half way across a wide river, have a song about it? They should change the title to the Pont over the Orwell, or London, Tower whatever.
We leave too little time to get to Nimes airport. We miss the flight. OMG. Thats another E300 down the swany river. No wonder the song is about dancing, the French must love us tourists, they do a jig every time another sucker goes through the easy customs border. Theres a feeling I get that they are rinsing everybody they can. We saw 3 girls nearly get fleeced E33 by a bus driver. Its fabulous in Provence, just be on guard.
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